


who would've thought?

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22927021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Huh, who knew sex pollen was actually a thing?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 633





	who would've thought?

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Jaskier saw them before Geralt – a field of beautiful flowers, fluffy like cotton. Jaskier had a bit of a thing for flowers, actually. His childhood home had been surrounded by dandelions and he’d collected one a day for many years, storing them in a vase in the kitchen. So, without a second thought, he raced toward them.

Until – “Jaskier, _stop!”_

But it was too late; he was in the middle of the field. He turned to look at Geralt, who approached on Roach. “What?” he asked, hands on his hips. “I can’t even enjoy some beautiful flowers?”

Geralt stopped right at the edge of the field, glaring at the flowers.

“Geralt,” he sighed, stalking closer. “They are _flowers_. Stop glaring at them.”

He looked up, grimacing, “Do you know what these flowers are called, Jaskier?”

“Uh.” Jaskier glanced down at them. They looked like cotton, and were perfectly round. “Cottonballs?”

Geralt breathed out, hard, through his nose, “They are called X.”

“Oh,” he crouched down and picked one, admiring it, “That’s not a very good name.”

“They aren’t normal flowers, Jaskier, they are placed by a creature you humans talk about often.”

Jaskier stood up and looked at him curiously. He could smell the flowers all around him, sweet and tangy. “Which creature?” he asked. Humans talked about many creatures often, like werewolves and vampires and –

“A succubus,” he interrupted, frowning.

Jaskier blinked, once, mostly focused on the fact– “Wow, I thought they were a myth.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, sounding _beyond_ exhausted, “Do you not understand what I’m saying?”

He shrugged, “Not really, no.”

“This is known as sex pollen,” Geralt said, glancing at the field. “Used to make humans… _well_.”

Jaskier suddenly understood, and not just because of Geralt’s explanation; he was starting to feel tingly and hot all over. He gulped and dropped the flower. “Okay, um, Geralt, I think it’s working.” He stumbled out of the field. “What do I do?”

“Well,” Geralt drawled, an amused quirk to his lips, “The succubus is most likely nearby, waiting for prey. Once she smells your arousal, she’ll come here to have sex with you.”

Jaskier nodded, once. “Right, well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“She’ll fuck you to _death_ , Jaskier,” he finished, and the damned bastard looked like he was stifling a laugh.

Jaskier laughed, a strangled thing. He could feel the magic taking over. His legs felt weak, heavy as bricks. One look and he realized he was growing hard in his breeches, too. Just lovely. “I always said I’d be happy to go that way, but I wasn’t actually _serious_.”

Geralt sighed and reached a hand out. Jaskier blinked at it. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “Get up here.”

Nodding quickly, he took Geralt’s hand and was successfully pulled up. He settled behind Geralt on Roach, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist – and trying _not_ to think about how good he felt. How much he wanted to slip his hand lower, lower and into the front of Geralt’s trousers, where he _knew_ his cock – unfairly huge and thick – was just waiting for him.

_“Jaskier.”_

He startled out of his thoughts, licked his dry lips. “Mmm, yes?”

“Focus, okay? Just long enough for us to reach the town. Can you do that?”

Jaskier swallowed around the lump in his throat. His cock throbbed in his trousers. “I can try.”

Geralt simply nodded, quiet, and pulled harder on Roach’s reins, who sped up.

-

Geralt had to help Jaskier into the inn and down the hall to their room. Once they were in the room, Jaskier fell on the bed with a _thump_. “I’m dying,” he gasped. “I’m _dying_.”

“You are not dying,” he replied instantly, approaching the bed like a startled cat. “But the discomfort won’t go away unless…”

Jaskier rolled over to look at him. “Unless _what_ , Geralt?” he asked impatiently.

“Unless you have sex,” he said, an odd quirk to his lips. “Lots of it.”

Jaskier almost sobbed/laughed, he couldn’t really tell. He scrubbed both hands down his face. “Can’t I just, you know, do it myself?”

“Masturbation will not work,” Geralt said, almost too knowingly.

Jaskier would _surely_ have many questions for him later. “So, take me to the closest whorehouse.”

“No,” Geralt said firmly, surprising him.

He looked over again and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Geralt – the bastard – undressing. He pulled off his chest piece first and tossed it before yanking off his shirt, revealing a sturdy chest dusted with hair. Jaskier’s cock twitched in his trousers.

“Um,” he said lamely, basically drooling. He wiped at his mouth. “Wh – what are you doing?”

Geralt reached down and started to untie his trousers. “I’m helping you,” he said. “Obviously.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he replied, unable to take his eyes off Geralt’s hands. He shoved his trousers down and Jaskier almost sobbed at the sight of his cock, half-hard and leaking and _beautiful_.

Geralt walked over and hesitated with his hands in the air, “Can I?”

Jaskier couldn’t even _think_. He just stared at Geralt, wanting to touch every inch of him. He nodded.

He helped Jaskier out of his clothes. Just the brushing of his fingers over his skin was enough to make Jaskier –

“ _Ah!_ ” he exclaimed, throwing his head back. He barely realized what had happened until he heard Geralt’s snort. Looking down, he blushed at the sight of his stomach covered in come. “I _swear_ I am not usually this sensitive,” he grumbled.

Geralt just snorted again and joined him on the bed. He sat against the headboard and pulled Jaskier into his lap, which was just fucking _torture._

Every point of skin contact felt like needles under his skin. “Wh – ” he smacked. ”Why are you doing this?“

Geralt rubbed his hands up and down his sides. Jaskier realized, with a start, he was already hard again.

“Don’t – don’t feel like you have to,” Jaskier continued when Geralt didn’t answer.

He had always dreamed of having Geralt under him (on top of him, didn’t matter) but not like _this_. Not because he was taking pity on him.

“Hmm,” Geralt reached down, smooth, to wrap his fingers about Jaskier’s aching cock. He gasped and leaned forward, burying his face in Geralt’s hair. “Have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to do?”

Jaskier let out a breathy laugh, “Your whole – uh, big and bad persona doesn’t work with me,” he said. Geralt thumbed at the tip of his cock and suddenly _words_ seemed so _hard_. “I know you – you’re constantly helping o – others.”

Because no matter what Geralt said Jaskier knew he was a good man.

“Fine,” he replied finally. “How about this?”

Geralt’s hand pulled away from his cock and he sobbed, unable to help himself. Pulling back, he watched with wide eyes as Geralt started to stroke himself. He was fully hard, and looked about in as much pain as Jaskier despite never setting foot in the pollen.

“I want you, Jaskier,” he said.

Jaskier’s brain felt like it was on fire, trying to make sense of such unexpected words.

“Can we save the overthinking for when you’re _not_ about to die?”

Jaskier laughed, sharp. “Yes, okay.”

Leaning back in, he did something he’d been wanting to do for years: he kissed Geralt, and surprisingly Geralt kissed him back. He gripped his hips, _hard_ , and kissed him deeper, sloppier. Jaskier licked into his mouth, and Geralt nipped at his bottom lip.

“Do you want me to – ” Geralt started to ask. Jaskier didn’t even _need_ to hear the rest of the question.

“Yes,” he breathed, pressing kisses to the corner of Geralt’s mouth, his hands all over his chest. “ _Yes_.”

Geralt smiled against his lips, and Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was the pollen or his own years of desire that made him want to cry with relief when he saw Geralt pull something out of his bag – a tiny vial of oil.

“Let me take care of you,” he heard in his ear and –

Jaskier couldn’t possibly say no to _that,_ so when Geralt put him on his back, hovering over him, he didn’t fight it. He found he preferred being in his lap, though.

But then Geralt was pouring oil over his fingers and Jaskier couldn’t think anything but _Geralt, Geralt, Geralt._

He pressed a finger against his opening, gentle at first, like a thoughtful lover and maybe, normally, Jaskier would’ve _wanted_ that but right now he needed –

“Please,” he sobbed. “Just – _Geralt_.”

Somehow Geralt understood and he pushed his finger in all the way. Jaskier gasped, throwing his head back. He saw stars behind his eyelids.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” he said, clutching at the blanket. “ _Please_.”

Geralt leaned up and nosed at his jaw as he quickly added a second finger, scissoring them, stretching him for his cock. Gods, just the _thought_ had Jaskier trembling with want.

Geralt pulled his fingers out and Jaskier whined, squirming impatiently because he _needed_ something inside him like right this second or he was going to –

“Shh,” Geralt whispered in his ear as he lined himself up to Jaskier’s opening. “You ready?”

Jaskier almost sobbed, “Wh – what do _you_ think?”

“Point taken,” he replied as he _finally_ pressed in, just the tip.

It wasn’t enough, not _nearly_ enough. Jaskier reached up, trembling, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, “Please, please, _please_ ,” he begged, tears welling in his eyes. He needed all of him, needed to be fucked within an _inch_ of his _life_.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied gruffly, and –

if Jaskier wasn’t about to fucking _die,_ he would’ve paused, appreciated this moment for what it was worth – Geralt finally admitting he cared about him, which he _knew_ , of course, but knowing and hearing it were two entirely different things but –

“You won’t break me,” he whined, arching off the bed, pushing back against his cock. “Fuck me like you _mean it_ , Witcher.”

Geralt growled, a sound that went straight to Jaskier’s cock. Leaning down, he slammed their lips together, teeth clashing, and pushed in all the way. Jaskier gasped against his lips, shuddering as Geralt bottomed out, filling him up, up, _up_.

He was so big and Jaskier had always known that, but _wow_.

Geralt buried his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck as he started to fuck him, _hard_. _Finally_.

Jaskier clawed wordlessly at his back, sobbing and moaning and whimpering. He was pretty sure he was leaving marks on Geralt’s back – oops. Geralt growled, nipping at the sweat-slick skin of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier tensed up, feeling hot and tight all over.

“Geralt,” he sobbed, and he pulled back, taking him in his hand, jerking him off.

“Come on,” he growled. “Don’t hold back.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and gasped, spilling all over Geralt’s hand. He felt Geralt follow just seconds after, filling him up. He opened his eyes, just a crack. “Fuck.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, pointedly staring at Jaskier’s cock.

Jaskier frowned and looked down just in time to see his cock twitch, slowly growing hard again.

“No fucking way,” he whined. “I can’t – _really?_ ”

Geralt almost looked amused, the fucker. He leaned back down and nosed at his jaw. “I’ll take care of you,” he repeated. “Just relax.”

-

Four hours later, Jaskier was _finally_ coming down from the effects of the pollen. He was exhausted, head resting on Geralt’s shoulder as he jerked him off.

He whined and buried his face in Geralt’s sweat-slick shoulder. At least he wasn’t the only one exhausted from their nonstop activities. He’d even given a Witcher a run for his money. He would’ve felt proud if he wasn’t so fucking _tired._

Seconds later, he spilled all over Geralt’s hand – again. Gods, they were both a mess.

Geralt pulled his hand back and wiped it off on the blanket. “Gross,” Jaskier muttered without looking.

“Finally feeling better?” he asked.

Jaskier sighed and pulled his face out of Geralt’s shoulder. “I think so, yes. I’m just… _exhausted_.”

“That’s to be expected.” Geralt reached up with his hand and brushed some sweat-slick hair out of Jaskier’s face. He would’ve found the whole thing fairly disgusting if not for the way Geralt was looking at him, soft like Jaskier was something precious. “You should get some rest.”

He nodded but he knew he couldn’t sleep until he knew for certain. “So… what does this mean?” he asked. “For us.”

Geralt smiled, just the barest hint of teeth. “If you’re asking if I want to do this again, the answer is yes.”

And, well, he _was_ but he was also asking _–_

“But do you – ” he started to ask, the words catching in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Geralt turned him down. His heart felt heavy in his chest. “I mean – ”

Geralt leaned in and brushed their lips together, soft and brief. “I do,” he whispered. “Now sleep.”

Jaskier wanted to cry, wanted to crawl in Geralt’s lap and kiss him silly, but he was just too fucking exhausted. So, he simply wiggled closer, their bodies slotting together almost perfectly. Geralt rubbed circles on his back, soft and comforting. Jaskier closed his eyes and silently thanked whatever Gods existed for fucking _sex pollen._


End file.
